Quicksand
by C-Unit
Summary: Just a glimpse, just a little reminder, of the hows and whys in Gordo's life. Now that things are ending, it's time for reflection. [One-shot songfic]


DISCLAIMER: This story deals with some pretty dark stuff like suicide, drug use, and sex, so yeah, watch out. Also, the Lizzie McGuire thing isn't mine, it's Disney's. The song is "Quicksand" by finger eleven.

**QUICKSAND**

_Slow sinking feeling_

_Kills the mood you're conveying_

_And it pulls me far down below_

_It might be best if you go_

I could feel the pool of blood slowly start to drip onto the bathroom floor, the white linoleum ever so slowly being taken over by the violet fluid. I could feel it slowly soaking into my hair and clinging to my cheek as it spread out across the floor. It was uncomfortable, but it was inescapable.

Way to go, David Gordon. You can't even kill yourself properly. And with a gun too. What the hell is wrong with you?

I guess the angle was off or something. Maybe I pointed the stupid thing too high. Now, instead of just ending everything in a quick little way, I'm gonna slowly die in this shitty little bathroom. What a joke.

The bathroom was small, but from my crumpled position on the floor it seemed endless. A toilet, a mirror, and a sink. That was it, all white and all clean, except for the splatters of blood. Something that wouldn't seem out of place in a gas station, and here I was in the messiest of messes. Sunlight and heat poured in through a tiny window, making things even more uncomfortable than they already were.

_Can it not wait_

_And hope for the best_

_Will it not stop a while to rest_

_I need to get up_

_Never mind_

_Cause I've done enough_

Why was I doing this again? Oh yeah, that's right. Lizzie McGuire. It's really funny how everything in my life has been determined by a blonde bombshell in spaghetti straps and denim skirts. It's just a laugh riot at how all my actions have revolved around her in some way.

I suddenly feel so selfish and self-appreciative. It seemed like the hero kind of thing to do. A bullet to the head because of unrequited love. Just like Romeo and Juliet – I guess – only it's much worse of a story.

I loved her, I really did. Everything about her – the hair, eyes, her compassion – everything. I can remember opening our first lemonade stand as kids and making Halloween costumes together. I remember seeing her for the first time when she moved next door to me back when I was in nursery school. I guess I was star-struck early on. Right now, all I can picture is sharing her one and only chocolate Popsicle, the thing melting and sticking brown ice cream all over her hand.

_Cause the world waits around_

_But I keep on slipping_

_And losing ground_

_Do I not try so hard so good_

_I can't keep changing_

_Just because you think I should_

And while we were young, things were good. Things were really good. The sun would set as I played basketball on my driveway. She would sit on the curb, watching me with an iced tea in her hand. She'd never take that many sips of it. Just smile and watch me play. Wide grins when I'd make the shot, sweet smiles when I'd miss. After a while, I'd get bored and sit next to her. Being in the suburbs didn't really allow for a spectacular view of what was surely a gorgeous setting sun, but just listening to her talk or hum, and with the kids playing hockey down the street, things would be enough. It was insular. It was like the whole world belonged to us in some sort of small, stupid way.

Swirling lights and bad rap music. Our first school dance. I was nervous as hell, and I guess I'll never know why. It was probably her, looking better than normal. Glitter on her chest and her nails painted pink. It broke my heart that I wasn't going to see her like that again until the next big dance or party or whatever. The feeling I got…the heart-gets-faster-and-you-get-self-conscious-about-even-breathing feeling…the one you hate at the time, but love to think about when it comes down to memories.

The obligatory slow dance came crashing down on me like a wave. For a brief moment I was so taken aback that she had asked me. I figured that Ethan or Danny or Aaron or Frankie or some other guy had hooked up with someone else, but then I found out that no, in fact, Lizzie McGuire really wanted to dance with me. I couldn't believe it and I couldn't deny it and I couldn't complain. I just stuck my arms at her hips and she kept close. Her head on my shoulder, her perfume in my head. It was a hint that she might have had feelings for me, but I'll never know. It was a glimpse, a little reminder, of the might of hads and could of beens.

I guess this is the point where regret sinks in. The point where I wish I could turn the last…however long I've been lying here…and totally turn it around. Start anew, knowledge gained. Unfortunately, my head is swimming, the memories of my stupid little life flying by. They're speeding up, slowing down, breaking into choppy little pieces. It was like living my life all over again with a broken film projector. The colors washed out, the lines beginning to blur.

Right now, if I focused really hard, I could see the white wall right in front of me. The cracks in the tiles became more apparent as I looked closer. A fine red mist had made it to that section of the wall and I felt the sudden urge to wipe it away. No luck though. My arms were too heavy to move, and I felt compelled to give up right away. I guess a nice little case of lethargy had set inside my bones. It was alright with me, though. I wasn't going anywhere.

_Said all I need to_

_And you don't understand still_

_Wish you saw_

_Picture my minds_

_Eyes are deep_

_And they're cynical_

Of course, things had to change between me and her. It was inevitable. She found other boys. Ones that could drive silver cars with the tops low down and the speed high up. Fast and furious rejects with booming, all-important voices to match their booming, all important sound systems, acting tougher than they should and taking advantage of everything they saw, including her.

She loved it though, she absolutely loved it. The attention, the lifestyle, the big "screw-you" it gave to her overprotective parents. Unfortunately, it was also a big screw-you to me as well, as I became one of the forgotten in her eyes. She didn't see that though. All she saw were nights spent hanging out in fast-food parking lots, getting drunk and having a good story to tell.

It suffocated me to feel like that, to watch her just fade away from me. The phone calls became infrequent, the greetings scarce, and I slipped into obscurity. It tore me up inside, and it made me angry. I had done so much for her and she had just decided to up and leave. I wanted revenge on her so badly I could taste it. Being in love automatically makes you an idiot, so I had no idea what I was thinking.

I started dating Kate Saunders. I mean hardcore, high-school sweetheart, long-lasting high school romance you can only dream of. I knew it pissed Lizzie off to no end. Kate and her had never been friends, never. It was my big screw-you to her and it worked perfectly. I could see it when I passed her in the halls at school and she'd glare at me, pure venom in her eyes. I'd just smile back, a little memento of the fact that she had done it to me first.

And then as things progressed with Kate – bitchy, annoying, grating, godawful, terrible, crazy, clingy Kate – I slowly lost my feelings for Lizzie. I forgot what I had felt for her and replaced it with all the unknown spite and distaste any human could possibly want.

_One taken_

_Four more kills the pain_

_Healing that sore_

_I've taken what's left_

_I took it all_

_And now you won't let me forget_

I knew that Lizzie's little brother had been on Ritalin for a while. His out of control tendencies and his stupid-ass habit of getting into trouble had finally pushed his parents over the edge and they took action. Like any other parent, they hooked him up with a psychiatrist, who in turn hooked him up with some pills. I knew how those psychs work – my parents handed pills out to any problem they could solve. I also knew every moment that Lizzie and her family were away from her house, and I also knew a way to get in without anyone being the wiser. Being a really good friend and neighbor for years will let you do that.

I don't even know how Kate and I came up with the idea, but we thought it would be awesome and hilarious to take his bottle of Ritalin and totally mess with the family. Spite and malice working our thoughts, rather than logic and my usual contemplative smarts.

So I broke into Lizzie's house, and I stole the Ritalin. I met up with Kate at her house, and we crushed it up. We snorted it all up and got stoned off our heads. We had sex and laughed and cursed everything about Lizzie McGuire. Then we screwed some more. I loved to degrade her and she loved it back. It was so hollow. It was exactly how I felt without Lizzie, but I didn't want to admit it to myself.

And then the news came. A weepy call in the middle of the night from Lizzie. She was crying her eyes out, sobbing uncontrollably. Her little brother, missing his daily Ritalin dose, went nuts. In a fit of paranoid ADD, the little kid went into the garage, grabbed the nail gun off the shelf, and shot himself in the head.

The guilt and pain and torture that I felt compelled me to go over to Lizzie's room and see her. I felt total sympathy, but I would never, ever tell her what had happened. I lay by her side, listening to her story all night, feeling like the old friend I always felt I was before things had changed.

People didn't want to be seen with Lizzie after that. They didn't want to talk to the girl whose brother had killed himself. So Lizzie and I struck up another friendship, one born out of tragedy. And I fell in love with her all over again. I think she loved me back, but I couldn't tell. If it was there, then I didn't see too much of it peep out onto the surface of her smiles.

But I couldn't take the guilt anymore. I couldn't lie. Her brother haunted me, and I had to stop things. I couldn't hurt the one person I had always loved in one stupid way or another. So I grabbed my dad's gun, went to the bathroom, and pulled the trigger.

_Stop your talking down_

_I lack the strength to sit or stand_

_I lost my self confidence_

_In the quicksand_

_Not now_

_Or ever_

_Sink slowly my treasure_

I could feel the blood congealing in my hair now, becoming thick like paste as I stuck to the floor. Everything was becoming out of focus and I felt like I was stoned. Just staring in a hazy bubble, not really thinking about anything at all. I felt so tired and lonely, but I just couldn't force myself to close my eyes.

I tried desperately to close them and think about Lizzie. It only seemed right. After all, she's the reason I did it in the first place. It would be inappropriate to dishonor my purpose and her memory, but I just couldn't help it.

My mind was wandering, my vision fading. I tried to close my eyes and think about Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie one more time, but it just never came to me.

Maybe I should have written a note…maybe I should have…worn…a better…shirt…maybe…I should have…


End file.
